


Attack of the Space Hedgehogs

by chantefable



Category: The Eagle of the Ninth - Rosemary Sutcliff, The Eagle | The Eagle of the Ninth (2011)
Genre: Action/Adventure, Aliens, Gen, Hedgehogs, M/M, Science Fiction
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-19
Updated: 2015-07-19
Packaged: 2018-03-22 14:49:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,112
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3732907
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chantefable/pseuds/chantefable
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Londinium is attacked by an army of space hedgehogs.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Attack of the Space Hedgehogs

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Eagle Fanmedia Challenge, Round Four.

The white clouds stretched high overhead, slowly obscuring the bright blue of the sky in their relentless, peaceful drift, while down below the stalks of green grass softly whispered to each other, and the thick forests sighed in the wind, and the river Tamesis twisted and turned, bubbling with barely suppressed agitation, like an eel shuddering on hot coals in the eerie quiet of the kitchen.

It was a regular day in Londinium. The market was crowded, full of noise of bustling people and tired animals, the smells of stale beer and soldier sweat and healing herbs and freshly baked bread mixing together in the heavy scent of town. Here, a harried-looking man tried to put the love of Virgil in a bunch of little boys with a scream and a stick; there, a heavily pregnant woman made her way from the docks, carrying a basket full of fish. Here, a balding clerk was on his merry way from the Procurator's office, bursting with his own importance; there, an inn-keeper was haggling with a drunken customer, rapidly losing hope of putting any more denarii in his money-box.

Two men made their way along the wharf. They might have been easily overlooked in the loud, many-coloured throng of people, were it not for their stately figures and sure gait, and the way they walked with a purpose, passing by the colourful workshops of potters and glassblowers with scarcely a glance. The glare of the shorter, wiry man was enough to make sure no beggar boys rushed after them clamouring for coin (or perhaps it was the strength quietly coiled in the muscles of his arms, clearly marking him a dangerous man); his tall, dark-haired, wide-shouldered companion walked in long strides, fast despite a slight limp, and both his speed and the dust and creases on his fine, expensive clothing clearly suggested that he was eager for a good rest after a long journey.

Indeed, that man was Marcus Flavius Aquila from Calleva, and he was making his way to the quarters where he hoped, with good reason, to find a warm, soft bed and copious amounts of palatable food, for his freedman, Marcus Flavius Esca – or Esca, as he was called by Aquila, and we shall follow his example – had been residing in Londinium for a while, and, judging by Esca's properly aloof and frightful manner which kept the silver-hungry street boys from scavenging underfoot, his big house with clean rooms and limewashed walls where he was currently heading with his patron Aquila, and the high quality of cloth which his breeches and tunic were made of, as well as the weight of the money pouch dangling at his shapely hip, covered by said breeches and tunic, it was perfectly clear that, whatever business he was conducting there, Esca was very well settled in Londinium.

The two men walked close together, matching their strides with the ease of habit, communicating with murmured words and warm glances. The faint flicker in Aquila's eyes whenever he looked at Esca could have been admiration, affection, or amusement, and the casualty of brief, confident touches Esca's calloused fingers gave Aquila's arm whenever he wanted his attention suggested a friendly intimacy between them, one that was beyond a commonplace relationship between a citizen and his slave or a discreet arrangement between a patron and a freedman. For all the smiles that passed between them, one might have thought Esca a puer who had understandably stolen Aquila's heart and wits with his sweet charms, and yet Esca's age and his stern, mature look of a hardened warrior marked him as neither delicate nor submissive. Still, tastes differ, and if Marcus Flavius Aquila's personal idiosyncrasy was like that of Emperor Galba's, it was hardly inconceivable, if a little irregular. 

Stranger things were known to happen in the provinces, after all.

And yet no stranger thing had occurred in any province of Rome than what happened on that warm summer day in Londinium, when the veil of white clouds was shredded by dark shapes and piercing light. The streets grew shadowy and a sickly silence spread as passers-by remained rooted to the spot, craning their necks and watching in awe how thousands and thousands of small, round, bristled shapes fell from the sky, sweeping over the town in a flurry of movement and hideous flashes of red light.

The people of Londinium – and with them, Marcus Flavius Aquila and Esca – were thinking about what they saw in the roiling skies above. They were wondering whether those were flaming stones or wicked spirits. They were wondering whether whatever was happening was the wrath of the gods, and if so, which gods. Whose gods. Some prudent men and women muttered prayers to Jupiter and Mithras and Lug and Aeron, while others rushed to the street altars, begging whichever god was there, for when the round invaders began shooting fire and gusts of hellish wind from their numerous prickles, people were inclined to take any chances they had.

But as fire and storm began raging in the streets of Londinium, smothering the town in chaos and prompt destruction, it became apparent that the gods, whichever of them were responsible for this madness, had left the people no chances at all.

Aquila and Esca, once they had abandoned their idea of hurling crates and potter's wares at the heinous, hedgehog-like flying beasts, made their escape to the river, which was already beginning to swell with the dead bodies of unfortunate townspeople. By the grace of Andarta, or maybe Mithras, they kept dodging one blast after another until they found a boat with no boatman, but with two sets of oars; with all the force and presence of mind they possessed, they directed the boat and fled as thick columns of smoke began to rise from the Forum, from the remains of the Procurator's office and from the marketplace. Londinium moaned and quivered, powerless like a flock of sheep caught in the way of a vomiting volcano. They heard the heavy stones crumble and the wood creak and crackle in the fury of the fires, and to a seasoned warrior like Esca, it was clear that this was no divine wrath: this was an army invasion. To a Roman centurion like Marcus, it was clear that it was an army more skilled, more powerful, more organised than any other in the known world.

It was the beginning of the invasion that would bring the Empire to her knees, but as Aquila and Esca navigated the muddy, crimson-hued waters of Tamesis, it was in their hearts that they were still alive and together, and their blood sang.

**Author's Note:**

> A note on Esca's name: naming convention for freed slaves was to take the praenomen and the nomen of the master, with the original name as cognomen.
> 
> A note on the hegemonic ideology of Roman manliness alluded to in this story: Marcus is a vir, an adult male who is a freeborn Roman citizen in good social standing. Male slaves and ex-slaves were not called viri: they would be designated as homines or pueri. In that sense, Esca is a puer (boy), despite his actual age. In Roman society, the only culturally condoned male same sex relationship is between a sexually active citizen man (Marcus) and a sexually passive male: a slave, an ex-slave, or a non-citizen (Esca). (For more information, see Jonathan Walters, "Invading the Roman body: manliness and impenetrability in Roman thought" in Roman Sexualities, edited by Hallet & Skinner, 1997, Princeton University Press.) A different dynamic is transgressive, see kinky and scandalous. For example, Cicero condemned the scandalous sexual relationship between two men where the free man took the part of the slave (i.e. passive/receiving). When a free man is an impudicus, when he allows himself to be sodomised, he places himself in the world of slaves and women, thus upsetting the social order. (If you care, more on that can be found in F. Gonfroy, "Homosexualité et idéologie esclavagiste chez Cicéron", Dialogues d'Histoire Ancienne, 4, 1978, p.227; I am paraphrasing a quote from another source.) However, the fact that Esca is neither young nor delicate is all very well as long as he still has the proper passive role; the age is simply a matter of taste. One must remark that the preference for exoleti (adult males), not younger men and boys, is rarely documented: the only example known to me is Galba, as attested by Suetonius. Therefore, Marcus' preference for Esca would be mere eccentricity. Needless to say, the nature of Marcus and Esca's relationship is their own business, but the narrative voice of this fic is compliant with the hegemonic ideology.


End file.
